


Survival Instincts

by Alethia



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Banter, F/M, First Time, Huddling For Warmth, Missions Gone Wrong, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 06:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20385190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: "Problem?" Michael asked, one eyebrow raised in that way that so reminded him of Spock.Chris smiled at the thought and started forward again. "No. I was just reminded of my survival training. They dropped us in a forest just like this one.""Well, you seem to have survived," she said, dry.





	Survival Instincts

**Author's Note:**

> Trope fic! This pairing should have more trope fic. Because what is _Star Trek_, if not a trope vehicle? Also posted [here](https://alethia.dreamwidth.org/1039658.html).

Chris leapt over a fallen log, feeling the solid impact of his feet landing on the other side, adjusting his stance for the added weight of his pack. Getting to stretch his legs wasn't the reason he'd decided to come on the away mission—the traces of a signal similar to the red angel's saw to that—but damn, if it wasn't a side benefit. 

"Having fun, sir?" Michael's voice was amused behind him. 

Chris turned to smile at her. This mission had more than one side benefit, he could admit that to himself. Spending more time with Michael was always welcome and if Chris had enjoyed Tyler's pissy look when he'd shot down his request to join, well. He was only human.

"It is nice to get away from all the prying eyes," he said, tipping his head. Not that her eyes _hadn't _been prying; she'd been watching him ever since they'd beamed down, the awareness prickling along his spine, even more noticeable here than when he'd first joined the _Discovery_ and she was still trying to figure him out. 

Her gaze had changed recently. Chris assumed that meant she'd come to some conclusion. Part of him wondered what it was. The other part was surprisingly content with the uncertainty. Things unfolded in their own time. 

"It must be difficult to have everyone constantly looking to you," she agreed, keeping pace with him as he picked his way through the forest, toward the looming rock outcroppings ahead. It was bad luck that some sort of interference messed with their transporter and comms, yet Chris found that he was okay with it. Probably too okay, but hell. Human. 

"Not difficult so much as...weighty," he said, not knowing quite how to capture the feeling. "I want to do right by those who serve with me."

"You do," she said with such devastating simplicity, like it wasn't even a question. Pleasure snaked through Chris, though he instantly shut it down. Having Michael Burnham's regard felt far too good to him. He shouldn't allow himself to fall into it. 

_That_ was difficult. 

Chris flashed a small smile at Michael, appreciative, taking her in: tactical vest, pack on her back, beautiful. He looked away just as quickly, eyes trained on their route again. Best not to let his focus wander while on an away mission, even if the world was uninhabited. 

He paused to take in the dense forest, surprisingly Earth-like. He breathed in the crisp air, seeing his breath fog as he exhaled. His mother would call this bracing.

"Problem?" Michael asked, one eyebrow raised in that way that so reminded him of Spock. 

Chris smiled at the thought and started forward again. "No. I was just reminded of my survival training. They dropped us in a forest just like this one."

"Well, you seem to have survived," she said, dry. 

"Despite the best efforts of my team," he shot back, equally dry. 

Michael easily picked her way around a large boulder, shooting him a look. "You know what they say: there are no bad teams, only bad leaders."

Chris laughed aloud, delighted by this side of her that only seemed to come out when they were alone. He _loved_ people who gave him shit, especially with all the fawning nonsense out there. Sycophants were so very tiresome. 

"What makes you think I was in command?" he asked, putting a little challenge in it. 

Michael shot him the world's most deeply unimpressed look and Chris laughed again, admitting, "Okay, yeah, I was in command. And, I would like to add, we all passed the course." He tilted his head, acknowledging, "Some a little more frostbitten than others."

She wove in and around some trees, frowning a little. "What, did they forget their gear?"

"That, I could've handled. No, I had a couple of geniuses so convinced that their land nav was superior, they snuck off to get to our objective earlier."

Michael shook her head. "Let me guess: their land nav was not superior."

"Not even a little bit. And that I _also_ could've handled if they hadn't wandered off on their own. At night. In the freezing cold." Chris sighed. "My kingdom for some common sense." 

"You'd need a kingdom to make that bargain," she teased.

"What makes you think I don't have one?"

Michael shot him a coy look. "Should I start calling you, 'your highness?'"

Chris smirked back. "I do believe you mean, 'your majesty.'"

Michael smiled, her whole face lighting up. He hadn't seen it often—she was usually so reserved—and it struck him somewhere low. He did that. 

Chris looked away, tamping down that reaction. It was...not the time. 

The amused lilt to her voice drew his attention back, Chris unable to help himself. "You'll forgive me if I can't picture you in a crown."

"God, no. They tried to crown me on Kanvia once. To this day, Una will not let me live that refusal down."

"She wanted you to become King?" Michael asked, stopping in surprise.

Chris paused and waved a hand. "Only so I could appoint her Grand High Poobah of something, I'm sure. That, or she planned to kill me and take my crown. Could go either way, really," he drawled.

Michael smiled again, this one smaller, amused but something else mixed in, almost...melancholy. "You miss your crew."

Chris tipped his head—he couldn't argue with that—but it was also true that in this moment, he didn't miss a damn thing. "There are good things about this assignment, too," he said, warm, holding her gaze. 

The moment stretched, some kind of tension strung between them, as strong as spider silk, but just as easy to miss. 

Finally, she looked away, down to her tricorder. When she looked back up, the moment was gone. "The signal's coming from the base of that outcropping there," she said, nodding to the nearest rockface, just across a rushing river. 

Chris nodded back and started moving again, aware of her gaze lingering on him. 

It might be wrong, but he was enjoying this little waiting game she had set up, whether knowing or not. The looks she couldn't hide. The small asides just for him. The focus. He hadn't felt this kind of interest in _years_ and he found the buildup surprisingly pleasurable. He couldn't remember ever being this affected by someone's interest, but that was Michael for you: always the exception. 

Except when it came to acting on anything, of course. No matter how certain of her affections Chris might be, she still had to make the first move. His position of authority required it. Chris had long ago vowed that he'd never put a subordinate in an awkward position, no matter his feelings, and he'd stuck to it. Una liked to tease him about being a monk, but better that than unduly pressuring anyone. He really didn't understand those captains who swanned around the galaxy, bedding everyone in sight. The conflicts struck him as too great, the chance of misunderstandings too high. 

Granted, they probably held different priorities than he did. But still. 

The sound of the river grew louder as they approached its banks. "Look, there's a cave," Michael said, looking from her tricorder and gesturing to a cave opening just beyond the river. "The source could be inside."

"Excellent. Any day I don't have to haul myself up a sheer rockface..." Chris scanned the river, noting the swiftness of the current, nothing they wanted to mess with. Even from here, he could feel the stinging cold of its spray. He pointed to a chain of rocks that protruded out of the rushing water, high enough for them to move across. "Those seem like our best bet."

Michael nodded, doing her own visual appraisal. "Unless we want to walk several kilometers downriver, I agree."

Chris headed for the rock chain, more promising the more he studied the configuration. The rocks were at comfortable enough distance that they'd be able to hop from one to the next. He looked to Michael. "I'll go first, make sure they're stable."

She nodded and Chris made his way over to the first, stepping up and from there, picking his way across the rocks, careful but confident. They were all sturdy, a good route, and he quickly made it to the other side. He turned to nod at Michael, who then followed his route. 

She was just crossing the midpoint when a change in the sound of the water caught Chris' attention. He looked upstream, spotting the log a bare instant before it collided with the rocks. Michael's foot slipped—

The sound of her falling in didn't even rise above the rushing water, but the shock of it lanced through Chris, his heart suddenly pounding, adrenaline rushing through him. "Michael!"

An interminable moment passed...and she surfaced, sucking in a gasping breath. She tried to swim, but the current had caught her and too-swiftly carried her away. 

"Michael!" Chris called again, racing parallel down the side of the river, keeping an eye on her tumbling body. She worked to keep her head above the surface even as the water buffeted her, ripping the pack from her back and disappearing it into the swirling blue. 

At a bend in the river, Michael spotted her chance; she swam hard toward the shore, diagonally, using the current as much as she could. It worked, Michael getting herself out of the current and into the shallows. 

Chris picked his way down the rocky shore as quickly as he could, knowing that he'd be useless if he went down, too. By the time he got to her, she was panting and stunned in the shallows, soaked through, but alive. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, urgent, rushing to her and crouching down, hissing as his hands landed on her shoulders, the cold instantly seeping into his fingers, like he'd dunked his hands in ice. His worry deepened when he got no response, to his words or his touch. 

"Michael, can you hear me?" he asked, hearing the shaky note to his voice. 

It seemed to take forever, but she eventually looked his way, frowning a little, like she was trying to remember something. 

_Fuck_. 

All of Chris' survival training snapped into perfect focus. He looked around, spotting that darkened cave opening nearby, one of the many seeded through the rocky outcropping. 

Then he turned back to Michael, keeping his voice steady. "We need to get you out of the elements and warm. I'm going to pick you up, okay?" He waited a beat for her acknowledgment, then abandoned that idea and got his arms under her, picking her up and cradling her close. 

Even as he walked them toward what passed as shelter, all the things he had to do screamed through his mind—keep her horizontal as much as possible, get her dry, warm, calories—one very loud voice noting that she wasn't shivering despite how his hands were starting to go numb just from touching her. Goddamn it. 

Chris didn't even feel the trip to the cave, the copper taste of adrenaline sour in his mouth, too many impulses flooding through him at once to feel the pain of carrying another body so far. 

He did feel the temperature change when he entered it, going from frigid to merely chilled. Chris set Michael down, pressing a hand to her cheek—too cold, even with his cold hands. She still wasn't shivering. If she didn't get warm, her body would shut down. 

She could _die_. 

The thought spurred him on, heart beating wildly as his mind raced. He could fix this. 

He clicked on a light and looked around, eyes landing on a pile of rocks nearby. Chris instantly pulled his phaser, adjusted the settings, and fired a steady beam, heating the rocks until they were red and glowing, providing both light and warmth. 

Then he shrugged off his pack. With hers gone, they'd have to share his supplies. It wasn't ideal, but they'd make do. 

He pulled out his Starfleet-issue sleeping bag and snapped it open, the air activating it, the bag expanding instantly. They weren't really built for two people, but hell. It wasn't like they'd be keeping to personal space given the givens. 

His eyes landed back on Michael at the thought. He needed to get her warm. 

"Michael," he said, cautious. "You need to get out of these wet clothes. Do you understand?"

It took a moment, but she focused on him and nodded a little. "Yes," she muttered, sending relief clear through him. At least she was still _here_. Her hands moved to her tactical vest, but they shook, unable to grasp the snaps. Michael frowned, confusion surfacing again. "I can't—"

With a sort of dawning horror, Chris realized he was going to have to undress her—she clearly couldn't do it herself. Guilt crashed through him, sharp and biting; he'd had thoughts of getting her out of her clothes. He hadn't meant _this_. 

He shoved all that aside. What mattered was saving her life. Nothing more. 

"I got you," he murmured, moving close, making quick work of the vest, then the zipper on her jacket. He shoved the jacket off, Michael trying to help, but mostly getting in the way. He should cut the clothes off of her so she didn't have to move, but he didn't have scissors or a blade...or replacement clothes.

Chris slipped into his captain's mask and methodically peeled her clothes off. After the jacket, he pulled off her shoes and socks, then undershirt and bra. She didn't react to the manhandling or the loss of clothes, a fact that only compounded the worry making Chris' hands shake. 

He brought his hand to her face, tilting her head toward him, her eyes sleepy, but open. "I need to stand you up to get everything else off quickly. Then you get inside the sleeping bag, okay?"

Michael nodded again, breathing harshly. She still wasn't shivering. 

Chris lifted her carefully, setting her on her feet. He quickly undid the clasp to her pants, pulling them and her underwear down, then guiding her into the sleeping bag. Her skin was cool everywhere he touched, a pit of dread sitting heavy in his gut. 

Once she was inside the sleeping bag, Chris spread her clothes out around the still-glowing rocks, hoping they'd dry quicker that way. Then he looked back to Michael, whose eyes had drifted closed. He moved to her, touching her cheek again—still too cold. 

"Michael," he said, her eyes opening slowly. "I need to get in there and warm you up, okay?"

Michael _hmmed_ and made an agreeable noise as her eyes drifted closed, sluggish. 

It should have gotten more of a reaction. Chris repressed the bite of fear and quickly shed his clothes, all the way down to his skivvies, folding them within easy reach of the sleeping bag and pack. Then he slipped in beside her, hissing as his skin came into contact with hers, clammy and cool. The sleeping bag was lined with a thin warming blanket, meant to cocoon people in their own body heat, but it had barely warmed at all from Michael. 

Michael made a pained noise as Chris moved close. He curled around her, pulling her face in to his chest, tangling their legs together. "I know, come here." She didn't protest, slumping against him as he wrapped his arms around her, but didn't rub her skin. He couldn't risk sending the colder blood through her system, not when he didn't know the state of her heart. He was acutely conscious that if she went into cardiac arrest, he had little recourse. He knew CPR, of course, but they couldn't beam out and he couldn't keep up CPR and move them at the same time. 

So he held her close, letting his body heat slowly bleed into hers, and hoped it would be enough. 

***

Eventually she started shivering, violent shaking that wracked her whole body. She gritted her teeth, but she couldn't stop the pained noises that still came through. Though Chris hated hearing her suffer, it was actually a relief. If her body's temperature regulation processes were kicking in, that was a _good_ thing. It meant this was working. 

Chris just held her tighter, murmuring, "I'm sorry," over and over, as he tried to keep hold of her.

It was all he could do. 

***

Once the worst of the shivering had passed, Michael fell into an exhausted sleep. Her breaths puffed warmth against his chest, deep and even. Chris could feel how her skin had warmed, her heart beating slow and steady where she was pressed against him. 

The clench of fear inside him released, the boulder that had been planted on his chest since he watched her fall into the water finally lifting off. She'd be okay. He'd need to get her to eat something—shivering expended a lot of calories—but once he did that and she'd fully rested, they could get moving again. 

With that desperate worry fading...the other thoughts slipped in. 

This would change things. The logical side of Michael's mind would see the necessity of everything he'd done and would approve. The rest of her...

Chris didn't think Michael was a prude, but she was very proper. They'd been serving together for a month and the most revealing thing she'd ever worn was a t-shirt while running. Her friends went to parties in dresses, open and relaxed, but she always held herself apart, fully-covered, endlessly correct.

And right now they were...really very naked. 

Heat flushed through him at the thought. Her breasts were soft against him, her legs still tangled with his, the skin under his hands smooth and inviting. He shouldn't be thinking about this, but now that the danger had passed, he couldn't stop himself. This was what he'd wanted—Michael in his arms—and while his mind knew it wasn't real, his body didn't seem to, stirring in interest. He was very glad he'd kept his underwear on. He didn't need to add anything else to the emotional turmoil this would inevitably spark. 

Part of him regretted that, even if it was unavoidable. He'd been enjoying their dynamic, the anticipation. If he had to guess, this would put an end to that, sending Michael retreating into herself. She'd been looking, and they'd been enjoying each other's company, but she hadn't actually done anything yet; that hesitance spoke to some kind of reservation about getting closer. 

Where they were right now...it was about as close as you could get, outside of sex. And even though this wasn't sexual, it didn't matter; it was still moving past carefully-maintained boundaries and Michael would feel that. Hell, _he _felt that. He _wanted _to keep holding her. He wanted to feel her like this, but for it to be real. He didn't want to let her go. 

But when she came back to herself and pulled away, he would. 

He would. 

***

Michael woke slowly, making a soft, muzzy noise, confused but still somehow content. It stabbed through Chris, raising all his protective instincts and that ever-present desire all at once. 

He pushed his feelings aside, focusing on her. "You back with us?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Michael sucked in a breath, stilling against him as sense rushed back in. For a frozen moment, she took in their positions, their lack of clothes, their...everything. Then she dropped her forehead back to his chest. She breathed out, purposefully, the sharp bloom of heat sending a shiver racing through him. 

But no. He needed to control himself better than this. 

Wanting some distance, Chris moved to reach over to the nearby pack, but Michael made some negative noise against his chest, the arm she had wrapped around him tightening, her hand curling into his back and holding on. 

Chris froze, not sure what to do here. "Michael," he said, half-plea, half-warning. 

"Stay," she breathed against his chest. Her hand moved down his back, a deliberate sweep that arrowed lust straight through his body, lighting him up. 

Chris swallowed, maintaining his control. "We have energy gel packs in there. You need calories." 

"I need you to stay right...here," she murmured, pressing her body against his, a sensuous slide of skin on skin that stole his breath. Every part of him wanted to fall into her, to take her up on the obvious invitation, hold her close and let this fire burn through both of them. But a nagging voice wouldn't let up:

This was nowhere near the reaction he'd expected. 

It sent a burst of cold through him. He stiffened, getting a curious noise from her as she felt it. But he didn't engage, pulling back a little, despite her protests. 

Chris looked down and met her eyes—clear and present, but it wasn't like he could truly trust that. He cupped one hand around her cheek, finally warm, keeping his voice kind: "One of the prime symptoms of hypothermia is confusion." 

Michael blinked, her body stiffening against his as she registered his meaning.

He didn't let it stop him, continuing on. "We need to get some fuel in you, then get back to the ship so you can get checked out."

"But...the red angel signal," she said, eyes searching his. 

"I did some scans while you were asleep," he said, nodding to the nearby tricorder. "The signal's degraded, likely hundreds of years old."

"Coming from where?" she asked, brow furrowing. 

"Right here," he said, troubled anew by the revelation. 

"In this cave?" she asked, surprised. "That seems like an unlikely coincidence."

"I agree, but without further information, we're just guessing." He paused and studied her, softening. "Our mission is done. The most important thing now is taking care of you."

Michael dropped her eyes and nodded, pulling back and wrapping her arms around herself. 

Chris took the opportunity to lean over and grab the energy gel packs from their kit. When he turned back, he found Michael's eyes on his chest, wide and startled. She instantly snapped her gaze back to his, embarrassment clinging to her. 

Now _that_ was what he expected. He handed her the energy gel packs. "Make sure to eat all of it. You were down for the count there."

"I remember," she said softly, _something_ in her voice. 

Chris nodded. "I'll get dressed," he said, giving her some warning. 

Michael nodded again, pulling her body away from his, untangling their legs, opening up a cold chasm between them even within the sleeping bag. 

Chris swallowed at the loss, reminding himself it was necessary. He watched as she focused on opening one of the energy gel packs, her fingers still a little shaky, but working. Good. That was...good. 

He quickly unzipped the sleeping bag, shivering as the cold air attacked his body. He instantly turned and tucked the bag around Michael, her wide eyes meeting his again before she looked away entirely. 

Chris didn't know what that meant, but he didn't press it. Instead, he quickly pulled on his uniform, the clothes cutting the chill. He used his phaser to once again reheat the rocks, feeling the air warm a little. Then he gathered up Michael's clothes, thankfully now dry, and set them beside the sleeping bag. 

"Come grab me when you're ready," he murmured, distracted as she pressed the last bit of energy gel into her mouth. She nodded. 

Chris headed for the mouth of the cave, when her voice stopped him: "Captain." He turned to look at her, still bundled up in the sleeping bag, seeming so vulnerable. "Thank you."

He smiled a little, tipping his head. "Anytime, Burnham."

Then he walked out. 

***

The trip back to their transport site was utterly silent. Chris missed the banter, the easiness of their earlier dynamic, even if he could still feel her eyes on him. He didn't know what it meant anymore, not after everything. It wasn't like he could ask. 

When they materialized on the transporter pad, finding Saru waiting, Chris felt something click back into place. This, he knew. 

He turned to Michael. "Report to medbay. Have Pollard do a complete checkup, then take twenty-four."

Michael stared at him for a beat, but nodded. "Yes, sir," she said, professional as always. 

Chris stepped off the transporter pad and joined Saru, catching his curious gaze. "With me, Commander. I'll catch you up."

And then he was out the door, the mission behind him. 

Just like that. 

***

"She hit on you while you were both naked and you turned her _down_?" Una asked, the disbelief clear in her expression, even in the ghostly form of the holo-call. 

Chris shot her a look. 

"Don't look at me like that. You two have been playing footsie for a month. I was about ready to take a shuttle over there and lock you in a room myself."

He smiled at that thought. "I think I'd like to see you try that with her."

Una gestured to him expansively. "My point exactly. You are this gone and you turn her _down_?"

Chris rubbed his hand over his mouth. "I couldn't, Una," he finally said, quiet. 

She studied him for a silent moment, then narrowed her eyes. "But you wanted to. And you feel guilty," she surmised, shrewd as ever. 

"It was...a moment. And now it's over." Never to rise again, most likely. Some regret accompanied that.

Una was shaking her head even before he'd finished. "You need to talk to her about this."

He stiffened. "I'm not going to put that pressure on her."

"You prize idiot, she opened the door."

"In the wake of an emergency." Chris could see her about to protest again, but he shook his head. "No, Una."

Una subsided, studying him again. "If you've already made up your mind, why are we even talking about this?"

"I needed to know if I was right. You gave me that, so thank you."

"Bullshit," Una said in that blunt way she had. "You don't need my approval to do the right thing. What's the real reason?"

Chris winced, simultaneously hating and appreciating that she understood him so well. "I don't think this one's surmountable," he finally admitted. 

Una tilted her head to study him, frowning. "People get naked. It happens."

He looked away. "You don't know Michael Burnham."

"...oh. You're sad," she realized, her voice softening. 

"It could've been something, I think," he said, hearing the melancholy note to his voice. He should focus on the future, look ahead. That was what always got him through before. 

But after letting himself fall into it, having it all snatched away...it stung. 

"It still could be," Una said, compassionate. 

If only Chris believed that. 

***

He was still turning it over in his mind later that night, ensconced on his couch, drink in hand. It seemed like the day for it. 

Chris looked up in surprise at the chirp from the door. He frowned, trying to remember if anyone had ever disturbed him here. He didn't think so. Usually if they needed him, they called. 

Then that old sense of inevitability slammed down onto him and he realized who it must be. It was probably for the best; they should discuss it so they could move forward. 

"Come," he called, the doors opening to admit Michael. 

"Burnham," he said, setting his drink aside and standing, nodding in greeting. 

"Captain," she said, nodding back. Then she stepped forward and handed over a PADD. 

Chris took it automatically, glancing at her expression, which was wholly neutral, before dropping his eyes to the information on screen. He blinked as he realized what it was...and what it said. 

"A medical report?" he asked slowly, meeting Michael's gaze again. 

"Pollard's. You'll notice where she signed off on my mental capacity."

"So I see," he said, careful. He handed the PADD back to her. "You didn't need to show me this."

"I believe I did," she shot back, dropping the PADD to his couch and stepping close. 

"Michael..." he said, low, surprise echoing through him. He'd expected her to pull away, not push. He'd started coming to terms with that.

This...wasn't how it was supposed to go. 

"I needed to show you that because I want you to know I'm not confused. I know what I'm doing," she said, holding his gaze, heat already building between them.

Chris closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again to refocus on her. "You've been through a trauma—"

Michael scoffed. "I've been through far worse."

His throat hurt at the truth of that—her life had been so filled with pain, it was hard to even believe. He didn't want to be another source of it. "Still, it's unwise to make big decisions in the wake of traumatic events."

"Oh, you're a big decision now?" she asked, dry. 

"There's no reason not to take time to reflect and—"

"Chris." He froze, stunned at the spike of heat that shot through his blood. She'd never used his first name before. "I appreciate the consideration," she said, dark eyes holding his. He could get lost in them, if he let himself. "But you and I both know we've been headed here for a while. This is what I want."

He swallowed, hearing the strain in his own voice: "I worry that the mission accelerated things too quickly."

"Or maybe it was the push we needed," she murmured, pressing her body into his. "Either way, we're here now." Then she paused, like it hurt to say, "Unless you don't want to be."

Chris breathed out, finally letting himself feel the spark of hope she was offering. He brought a hand to her cheek, drinking her in. "I think we could be good," he admitted, soft. 

Michael nodded. "So do I."

"I haven't felt like that in a while. It's a little terrifying."

She covered his hand with hers, leaning into his touch. "It really is."

"When I saw you slip..." he trailed off, shaking his head, remembering the shock of panic that raced through him. 

Michael squeezed his fingers. "You saved me."

"After you saved yourself," he pointed out. 

She smiled a little. "Team effort, then." The smile slipped away as she went serious, twining her fingers with his. "I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to. We can have this." She said it with such hope for the future...

In the face of that, all his resistance melted away. In this moment, they wanted the same thing. It was enough. 

Chris made a helpless noise and pulled her to him, his mouth settling over hers. The kiss started slow, but built, Michael opening her mouth against his, no hesitation. Chris groaned, deepening the kiss, his tongue teasing, light.

Michael was having none of it, fusing their mouths together like she couldn't get enough. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him close as they kissed and _kissed_. 

Chris broke away, panting. "Jesus."

Michael leaned in again, nipping at his mouth. "Naked and pressed against you and I couldn't even enjoy it," she muttered between kisses, like this was her cross to bear. 

Chris huffed out a laugh. "You can enjoy it now?" he offered. 

Michael pulled back, expression serious. "Take me to bed, Chris."

His name on her lips sent another thrill of lust through him; he wondered when that would get old. He hoped never. "Yes, ma'am." He backed her toward the bedroom, the room brightening as they entered. 

Michael wasted no time, fingers sliding under his uniform. "I can't believe I missed the first time I got you out of your clothes."

Chris laughed again, shucking his shirt gratefully, groaning as she nipped at his bare chest, hands working at his pants. "I do believe _I _got me out of my clothes."

She slipped her hand inside his uniform pants, wrapping it around his stirring erection and stroking, a light tease. Chris' whole _body_ reacted, pleasure shooting through him, stealing all thought. 

"You were saying?" she asked, light. 

"_How_ are we not naked yet?" he muttered, electricity running up his spine with every stroke of her hand. 

"Let's get on that," she agreed, taking her hand away and stepping back. 

It took Chris a second to recover his wits and by then, she was already pulling her shirt off as she kicked her shoes away. His mouth went dry at the thoughtless grace of it, Michael pulling off her clothes one of the most beautiful things he could remember seeing. 

She clocked his lack of movement, looking up at him with a single, imperiously-lifted eyebrow.

It got him moving, Chris kicking off his own shoes and shoving his pants and underwear off. Michael did the same, the two of them crashing together again, gloriously naked, mouths searching. This time, it wasn't life-and-death; it was joy, Michael arching into his touch, reveling in the feeling of skin on skin. 

The fell back together on the bed, Chris making sure to keep his weight off her. He kissed from her mouth down to her breasts, rolling a nipple slowly, Michael crying out, hands moving over him everywhere she could reach. 

Chris moved to her other breast, lapping at the hardened peak. "I want to taste you," he breathed over it, voice dark. 

Michael made a wanting noise, her hands clutching at his shoulders. "Later, later. Please, I've been thinking about this since I woke up," she confessed, breathless and desperate. Her tone of voice was enough to send another frisson of heat through him, his cock hard and insistent. They should really be having sex already.

So he followed her urging and rolled between her legs, smelling her arousal even as she guided his hand to her, so wet and open for him that he realized it might actually be true; she felt like she'd been wanting for that long. 

The thought made him groan against the skin of her stomach, fingers moving in her, searching out what made her twitch. He curled his fingers, Michael nearly jumping out of her skin as she made a helplessly turned-on noise, and Chris leaned up for her mouth again. He kissed her as his fingers worked her open, her hips moving in concert, wanting. 

"Enough," she gasped, breaking away, nails digging into his shoulders again. "_Please_."

Chris pulled his fingers away and shifted over her, moving one of her thighs wide as he pressed his cock against her, the heat of her already driving him out of his mind. 

He took a breath to ground himself, then sank inside her, the heat of her around him stealing all rational thought. Michael moaned, long and low, as he sank deep and held still, both of them catching their breath. "Yes," she gasped, finding his mouth and _biting_. 

Chris gave in, rocking into her, gentle at first, then more forceful as Michael's pleased noises intensified. While he'd let himself imagine this a time or two, the reality was infinitely better. He couldn't have known she'd be so vocal, the encouragement sharpening the pleasure vibrating down his spine. 

"Harder," she gasped against his mouth, heels digging into his ass, insistent. 

That lit something in him and he _snapped_ his hips into her, getting a choked gasp, Michael's body squeezing around his cock with little flutters. He kept it up, fucking into her in earnest, the whole bed shaking with it, Michael mewling every time he seated himself, her body gripping him.

He pressed his fingers between them, working over her clit, light and irregular, and the fluttering around him intensified, the added pressure sending fire racing through him. He kept moving his fingers, determined to get her off before he lost it, still thrusting into her with force. 

Chris kept his eyes on her face, gorgeously unselfconscious in her pleasure, until he couldn't anymore; he had to kiss her, murmuring praise into her mouth. 

Michael curled around him and made an uncontrolled noise, her body pulling tight around him as she came, calling out his name. 

Chris groaned as that hit him, his own pleasure whiting out everything but the feeling of her around him, Chris jerking into her helplessly. His orgasm pulsed through him, long and low, and he lost himself to it. It had been a while. 

After, he panted into her mouth, feeling the fine trembles shuddering through him. Or maybe it was her; they were so close, it was hard to tell. 

Michael looked up at him, muzzy and sated. She leaned up for his mouth and he sank into the kiss, wanting nothing more than to put that look on her face as much as humanly possible. 

Eventually, he started to soften inside her and he pulled out. But he rolled close, nuzzling her shoulder, feeling drunk on her. 

They breathed against each other, bodies calming, until Chris felt a shiver go through her. He looked over, catching her startled gaze...and both of them fell into helpless laughter. 

After they'd caught their breath, Chris kissed her, gathering her close. "Don't worry. I'll warm you up."

Michael laughed. 

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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